


The Sun Kissed the Moon, And the Moon Turned Away

by vesuviannights



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: AFAB Reader (The Arcana), But also he's hard to love here, F/M, Female Reader, Soft Valerius, morning blowjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-09-28 20:23:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20431916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vesuviannights/pseuds/vesuviannights
Summary: One morning after Valerius has let you fall asleep in his chambers, in his bed, against his chest, you wake before he does to spy his bare cock waiting for you in a shaft of sunlight, like a gift from the gods. You decide to show your appreciation by waking him with your mouth.





	The Sun Kissed the Moon, And the Moon Turned Away

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for an anon request on my Tumblr (@vesuviannights). The request was "could you do a request with Valerius where his s/o (fem) wakes him up by sucking him off?".

The nights where Valerius lets you stay late are so rare, like spotting a shooting star as it passes over a sparkling Vesuvian night, or finding a clover in the fields you explore between your working hours at the palace. You feel just the same about them, too: always a little hopeful, always a lot like you will never hold them in your grasp, even though you reach for them with such longing and promises of loving them with all your heart.

While the nights you stayed late were rare, the ones where he let you fall asleep—intentionally with no otherwise, because everything he did was by design—were completely unheard of, and so when he had let you collapse against his chest last night, still warming his cock, and had started tracing the contours of your spine without sending you on your way with the impartial words he usually did, you had said nothing, and had allowed his warmth to pull you into the blissful throes of sleep.

You wake in the morning with a soft sigh, every inch of your bare skin warmed by the strips of sunlight caressing you through the window. Your toes curl as you stretch out along the length of his body, mewling and murmuring and blinking the sleep out of your eyes.

Valerius is still asleep, his supple lips parted for slow, shallow breaths. His hair is still out from your activities the night before, splayed out beneath him, curling out along his sheets. His lashes flutter against his cheekbones, where a light pink haze has settled as a show of the morning heat. Dare you say it, he looks…soft. Easy to love. Two things you know very well he is not.

Shaking the thoughts from your head, fearing he may never let you in his bed again if he knew of them, you prop yourself up on your elbow to glance over your shoulder at the ornate clock hanging by the dresser. It is already so late in the morning, at least for the consul, and you know you will not have much longer to savour the soft image of him splayed out before you.

Turning back to him, your eyes trail a slow and delicate path down his body, exposed to the strips of sunlight and the world by the white silk sheets that have bunched and gathered in some places, or been completely pulled off in others.

One such place—to the thrumming delight of your sex-ravished core—is his cock. It is in a literal beam of sunlight, like a gift from the gods, and it is primed and ready and stiff from the morning air.

You roll your bottom lip between your teeth, your mouth watering at the sight of it.

It would be so very rude to ignore it, would it not?

So carefully, so gently, you shift down to the bed to settle at his feet. You part this thighs with your fingertips, curling them against his skin as he stirs just a little before settling back into his steady, shallow breathing.

His cock is perhaps your favourite part of him, and not just because of the many uses it has to both delight and punish you. It is smooth, clean, circumcised, with an even skin tone and not a single hair in sight in the surrounding areas. It is thicker at the base, and it is his favourite place to hold you down while your needy little cunt is squeezing around him and you are begging him for reprieve. And it is _long_, and so very talented at hitting all the best places in every one of your holes, at making you sob and squirm and feel so many places you had never imagined being able to.

Shifting closer, you press an open-mouthed kiss to the head. As you pull back, the sunlight catches on the damp spot you have left, and you blow gently just to stir it a little more.

Then, your tongue darts out, moving at first in a tiny circle just over the very tip, and then a larger sweeping motion that captures the entirety of the head and allows you to close your lips around it with a soft sigh.

There, you suckle gently, eyes wide and watching his face as he gives a murmur. His cock twitches in response to your affections, and so with a burning chest and a barely-sated, feral hunger, you take him in a little further.

He’s salty but clean, a slight soap taste, and you’re only vaguely aware that this means he must have abandoned you at some point when you were sleeping to wash up and return to bed. Return to you, and place himself underneath you once more, and place himself on the other side of his king bed, or wake you to send you on your way like he could have so easily done. Like—you are sure he will argue when he wakes—he _should_ have done.

As you hollow out your cheeks to take him a little further and suck a little harder, his entire body shifts, just a subtle brush against the sheets as he murmurs under his breath. His hips push up into your mouth, the movement lazy and much like a cat slowly arching into its owners touch. You think you hear your name on his lips, a purr so quietly and barely-there, but his eyes still do not open and he has done nothing more, settling back into the softness of his bed.

And so you keep going, humming softly as you bob on his cock, delighted in the gift you have been given. You bring a hand up to cup his sack, rolling its smooth warmth gently in your palm. Then, you replace your mouth with your other hand and lean a little further down to lick a single, clean line up the seam of it before kissing there, too.

You part your lips to take one of his testicles into your mouth, your tongue rolling around the oval-shaped organ before releasing it with a soft _pop_and seeking out the other to give it the same reward.

That is when you finally feel his soft touch, feel his hands slide into your hair, tugging just enough to let you know that he is awake and ready to take control.

He murmurs to you softly, indistinguishably. He is always so sleepy when he first wakes, and takes a good half an hour to wake properly on any given moment. And here you are, such a good girl, helping him to wake a little faster and in a much nicer way, your lips pressing a final kiss to his sack before you work your way back up to his cock.

“Little one…you…_good morning_…”

You give an amused hmmm and return his greeting before taking him in your mouth again. He thrusts this time, slow and languid, just far enough that you feel the head of his cock brush against the back of your throat.

“Deeper, take me _deeper_…” he murmurs.

He releases one hand from your hair to reach back and grab his headboard, using it to leverage himself as he begins thrusting up into your mouth with more slow, languid movements.

You look up with wide eyes, and the sight of him splayed out along the pillow, lips parted, hair everywhere, almost crushes you. You have never seen him so soft, so pliant, so lovely. _So easy to love._

And you are so eager to show him how wonderful he is, how beautiful he is to you and how lucky you are, that you swallow him deeper, as though this could really prove that what he feels now—the strain, the pleasure, the warmth—is everything he does to you, too. Your nose is pressed against his lower abdomen for a few moments before you pull back with a gasp, eyes stinging with tears, little trails of spit hanging between your parted lips and the head of his cock.

He looks down at you, takes in the sight of your heaving chest and wide, hopeful eyes. Takes the other hand out of your hair to wipe his thumb under your eye, cooing and tutting as he murmurs in that low, rumbling, still sleep-sated voice.

“So good to me, little one, taking me all the way into your throat so I can feel every glorious inch of it wrapped around my cock. Will you swallow every drop of my seed when I come?”

You nod, and before he can even command it of you, you take him in your mouth again, bobbing and licking and sucking, eyes locked with his until they with a flutter of lashes against his cheek, and he arches his back a little more to get a little closer to you, his knuckles turning white against the headboard.

You learn then that he comes differently in the morning, that sleep-sated Valerius is much softer and sighs when his cock twitches and he comes in your mouth.

That instead of yanking your hair and holding you down on him so he can send it straight into your throat, he lets you pull off a little so you’re sucking just the tip of him, and his fingertips pull through your hair like he’s patting you while his seed spurts onto your tongue, letting you taste every salty drop.

When you have swallowed every last drop, you pull back with a smile, and he stretches out as you climb back up his body to settle beside him.

He rolls to his side to face you, kisses your forehead, but when you go to kiss his mouth he turns you away, and you realise with a swoop of your stomach: the softness is starting to disappear, and your borrowed time with this version of him is slipping through your grasp.

“Wash your mouth out first.” He tells you, even though his tone of voice suggests he isn’t at all interested in kissing you, even after you do. “I’m already late for my day. You should have woken me earlier.”

Then he sighs softly, a little of an edge to it, before rolling away and slipping out of the bed to head toward his kitchen, leaving you to watch his retreating backside.

“Make sure you’re gone before the maids arrive to set the bed so they don’t see you,” he calls back.

And then he is gone. You sigh and only give it a short minute before you follow his orders to rinse your mouth out, then slip out the door without a word to him when the corridor beyond is clear.


End file.
